


Glory Days

by henghost



Category: Little Witch Academia
Genre: Drinking, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:35:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25568350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/henghost/pseuds/henghost
Summary: Croix interrupts Chariot in the middle of a nostalgia trip, and the two share drinks and fond memories.
Relationships: Ursula Callistis | Chariot du Nord/Croix Meridies
Kudos: 35





	Glory Days

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy my first LWA fic :)

When she was sure the students were asleep (or, at least, unlikely to leave their rooms until morning) Chariot du Nord pulled her school trunk from the closet and withdrew her old costume. Shiny Chariot’s costume. The blue-white corset that left her sternum and navel open to the elements. 

And here, further inside the trunk, was the little blue skirt, the leather belt, the crimson cape, the long stockings, the shining white boots, and finally, crumpled into a ball at the very bottom, was the pointy hat. Oh, the hat! How she had missed this hat, the weight of it atop her head, the glint of the embossed diamond.

Already the nostalgia was rushing to her head like liquor. She stripped off her drab blue robes and put on in their place what she had once called her second skin. 

Perhaps it had been easier in the past. Perhaps the second helpings of tarts at breakfast were catching up with her somewhat. Perhaps, if she were to stitch together an updated version, she would make the skirt a little longer, if only to conceal the little ripples of cellulite that had shot up like weeds along the backs of her thighs. 

Despite all this, however, when it was all on, she still looked  _ magical _ .

She twirled in front of her mirror and giggled like a girl ten years younger. Then drew her wand and summoned a glowing starburst — she always looked better underneath the lights. If she listened closely she could hear the roar of the crowd. If she closed her eyes she saw herself as the centaur, the angel.

But when she opened them, she caught a glimpse of the moon — full to bursting — through her window, and her signature carved therein. And the fantasy trickled away.

_ Clap clap clap _ . 

What was that? Applause? A remnant of the dream? No, of course not. Croix had a knack for appearing at the worst possible moments. 

“Beautiful,” said Croix from behind her. “You always looked so good in that outfit.”

Chariot whipped around and glared at her old friend. “Where did you come from?”

“Something I’ve been researching. Teleportation magic.” And she stumbled a little.   


“I take it you aren’t here because you’ve found a cure for me?”

“My apologies. It’s just that I’ve been thinking, Char’. Thinking and remembering. It seems as though you’ve been doing some remembering yourself.”

“Croix, are you drunk?”

“Mm. A little concoction I put together. Mixed with the fruit of a Polonia Vine and the venom of a Snicker-Snack Serpent. Very rare, very expensive, and very, very potent. Do you want some?” 

And Croix removed from some hidden fold a shining silver flask and shook it at Chariot. From a yard away she could smell it, and she wrinkled her nose, and then ripped it from her hand.

The taste was like acid and lava. It burned down her throat and spread wildfire throughout her chest before tumbling like a bomb into her gut. She grunted and spat, and Croix laughed and took the flask back and put it to her lips.

“You were always such a lightweight, Chariot.”

“And you were always so eager to intoxicate me.”

“Do you remember that night, Char’? It was our last year as students of Luna Nova, and I thought we should have a celebration. But the school functions were always so prudish. So one night, I snuck into the cafeteria when all the lights were out and filched a bottle of cooking wine. Do you remember what happened next?”

“I remember. I remember you getting blackout drunk and kissing me without asking. And then in the morning I remember you claiming you had no recollection of the event. And I remember thinking it was the most egregious lie. Was it?”

“I think some questions are better off left unanswered. Anyway, what were you up to when I interrupted? A nostalgia trip?”

“Something like that, I guess. Reliving the glory days. I don’t know. Sometimes I look in the mirror and see nothing but wrinkles. Sometimes I wonder if I wasted the best years of my life. Do you ever feel like that, Croix?”

“Oh, I’m positively riddled with regret. You know that.”

“I suppose I am as well,” said Chariot, and took another peek at the moon which bore her scar.

“Some things, though, don’t go away with age,” said Croix, and what was that look in her eye? She ran her gaze up and down the length of Chariot’s body and smirked. Croix’s smirks were the stuff of legend. Like a red gash through the center of her face.

“Why did you really come here tonight?”

“It gets lonely out there, Char’, in the outside world. And dark. So, so dark. I guess, I don’t know, sometimes I crave a good show. And you always put on the best show.”

“I’m worried my usual pyrotechnics would wake the students.”

“Oh, I don’t need all that. I just need you and your cute little costume and the body inside it.”

Chariot couldn’t help but blush. And the drink — whatever it was — had filled her mind with a thick haze, and the summer air was around them like a spell, and she began to sway her hips. She put her arms above her head and swiveled around and around and around her central axis, her eyes saying, Like this, Croix? And Croix bit her lip, which was answer enough.

Here, dancing in the dim light with Croix’s eyes like liquid all over her, she was young. For the first time in years, she was young. 

After a few minutes, though, the absurdity hit her like a brick, and she collapsed to the stone floor and giggled and giggled until she had no breath left.

“You always looked so good in that outfit,” said Croix. “There’s another memory I keep thinking of, these days. Tell me if you remember. The day after we graduated, in the morning, when we were about to begin the rest of our lives. We stumbled out of the building with our killer hangovers and made the trek to the Leyline. But when we got there, Char’, I couldn’t take off. Not because the magic wouldn’t come, but because I was scared. I had flown thousands of times before, but the prospect of taking off now, not as a student but as a woman, terrified me.

“Do you remember what you did, Char’? You said  _ Tia Freyre!  _ and when you were high enough you took your broom by the hands and dangled off it so the tips of your toes were inches above the ground. And then you flew over to me. You put your uniform’s skirt around my head like a veil, and then you dipped, just a bit. And when, a few minutes later, you shivered and dripped onto me, I wasn’t afraid at all anymore.”

“I remember that,” said Chariot, and got to her feet.

“They say,” said Croix, “that when you can’t get a song out of your head, the best thing to do is to listen to it again. All the way through.”

When she realized what she meant, Chariot said, “But … my flight.”

And Croix got to her knees and looked up at her and said, “I suppose us old crones have to stay a little more grounded.” And she shuffled forward and ducked her head under Shiny Chariot’s famous blue miniskirt.

Later on, several students of Luna Nova rose from their slumber to the sound of screams.


End file.
